


all the colors will bleed into one

by cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dating, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romance, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just then Jonathan Toews skates up close to the glass, messing around with a puck. He looks up and catches Brent’s eye. Brent swallows hard, absently stroking Mara’s hair when Toews looks down at her and waves.</p><p>“Daddy!” Mara says excitedly and bounces, shaking Brent’s hand off. “Hi!” she says back to the glass.</p><p>Toews laughs and mouths ‘hi’ and Brent’s heart swells in his chest.</p><p>When their eyes meet again he can clearly see Toews say, “Nice jersey.”</p><p>Brent looks down at himself and the ‘C’ stares back at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the colors will bleed into one

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to amandaj for her enthusiasm, as always and to torigates and ferritin for beta <3 Another entry for the Tazer and Seabs b-day fest. Happy Birthday, Seabs! Mix is [here](http://8tracks.com/sometimesalways/saw-the-world-spin-beneath-you). 
> 
> Graphic: 
> 
>  

When Brent is twenty, his ex-girlfriend tells him she’s three months pregnant and the kid is his. Then she says he can take a DNA test if he wants. 

He does want to, but not because he doesn’t believe it or want to take responsibility. It’s the exact opposite. He needs to _see_ that this is his kid because, well, because he wants it to be. And that wasn’t a thought he’d ever had before. Not until he heard the words, “I’m pregnant, it’s yours.” 

And it is. His. 

“I’ll have it, but I’m not keeping it,” Rosanna says. “Not ready to become a mom yet, Brent. We can put it up for adoption or—”

“I want it,” Brent says. They’re the three easiest words he’s ever uttered.

It’s everything that comes after that isn’t easy. Being a single parent is exactly as difficult as the movies make it out to be. The first few years are the hardest. Brent’s still finishing up school to start out with, and then has a full-time job. He has to hire a nanny, which doesn’t leave much room in his budget on an entry-level accountant salary. Between the nanny for Mara and buying food and clothes and necessities for both of them, Brent’s lucky if he can save $25 dollars a month. Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s perfect. 

Things ease up a bit financially when Mara’s old enough to go to school. Brent only needs a babysitter for a few hours in the afternoon and then he’s home. By the time his baby girl is seven, they’ve got the routine down pat. Brent comes home from work by 5:30 and they make dinner together. Well, Brent makes dinner, and Mara hands him the things she can reach, which isn’t much. Then they talk about their days and either watch a movie or a Hawks game if there is one. Mara always puts on her Patrick Kane jersey for the game, and Brent in turn wears his Toews one. Mara stays up way past her bedtime on those nights, but Brent refuses to feel like a bad father when his little girl is so happy, curled up against his side and smiling.

Any excess money Brent has usually goes toward things for his daughter, but he can rarely afford anything extravagant. Hawks tickets are exactly that, the prices raising every year, especially after they win their second cup. He knows she wants to go, has asked him a million times. When Brent gets his holiday bonus it’s the first thing on his list. He knows she’d rather be up close and it would be easier for Brent, not having to make her stand on a chair or sit on his shoulders the whole time. Tickets near the glass are ridiculously expensive on StubHub and Brent’s entire bonus is nearly gone by the time he hits the checkout button.

It’s all worth it, though, when they’re there and she’s beaming from ear to ear, watching the warm-ups. She yells for Kaner, but the music is so loud he doesn’t hear. Just then Jonathan Toews skates up close to the glass, messing around with a puck. He looks up and catches Brent’s eye. Brent swallows hard, absently stroking Mara’s hair when Toews looks down at her and waves.

“Daddy!” Mara says excitedly and bounces, shaking Brent’s hand off. “Hi!” she says back to the glass.

Toews laughs and mouths ‘hi’ and Brent’s heart swells in his chest.

When their eyes meet again he can clearly see Toews say, “Nice jersey.”

Brent looks down at himself and the ‘C’ stares back at him.

When he looks up again, Toews is skating away but not before winking in Brent’s direction.

“He talked to me, Daddy!” Mara says.

Brent looks at her in a daze, mouth open before he shakes himself and smiles. “He did. You having fun, kiddo?”

“Yes! This is great!”

Brent’s a little stuck on the fact that the dude whose face and body has starred in many of Brent’s celebrity jerk-off fantasies just winked at him.

Great isn’t what he’d call this. Fuckin’ surreal is what it is.  
____________________________________________

The brokerage firm where Brent works has a lot of accounts and sponsorships. One of them is the Blackhawks, and every year during the holiday season there's a raffle for employees. Brent's never been lucky enough to win, so it's not like he's thinking anything of this year’s “Win Breakfast for Two with Hawks Captain Jonathan Toews” giveaway. 

He enters because he always enters. Because his little girl loves the Hawks. Or at least that's what he's telling himself, and not that he'd love another chance to see Tall, Dark and Muscles’ eyes on him again. 

Brent's been following the Hawks since before Toews was captain, but he can’t deny he’s a huge fan of him, just like the rest of this city. The kid is good: intense, passionate, hardworking. But when those eyes are focused on you and no one else, for even a split second? Well. Brent would love to know what it's like to be under the attention of this guy in a very different context, is all he’s saying. He’s been jerking off more than ever to thoughts of the dude’s face and arms and chest.

So when he wins… when he _actually_ wins, he's fucking shocked. 

He has no idea what to wear or how he's going to keep it together in front of his kid, who is probably going to be as starry-eyed as Brent himself. And Brent doesn't _do_ starry-eyed. 

“Drive faster, Daddy, we're going to be late!”

“I'm going the speed limit.”

“Can you make an expection?”

“Exception,” Brent corrects. “And no.”

“Not even for Jonathan Taze?!”

That's the way she says his name: Jonathan Taze, with a little lisp. It's possibly the cutest thing in Brent's life. 

“Not even for Jonathan Toews.”

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as Brent watches her out of the rearview. “You're no fun, Daddy.”

“Not gonna work, baby doll.”

“Ughhhh,” she groans, staring up at the roof of the car like it’s offended her. 

“We're almost there.”

Brent had no idea what to wear. In the end he’d settled for his most comfortable grey sweater and dark jeans. He feels like a crumb, wearing jeans to meet Jonathan Toews, but it's breakfast, not dinner. Besides, Mara is fancy enough for the both of them -- in her best Sunday dress and a bow sitting between her pigtails. 

Brent put on some cologne, too. And maybe it's the stuff he keeps in the back of his medicine cabinet that he hasn't taken out since the last date he went on, but no one needs to know that. 

His hand shakes when he turns off the car once they're at the location. It's a cute little cafe he's never been to before and Brent has no doubt it was rented out for the occasion. 

His thoughts are confirmed when he steps inside. There's a hostess and a huge buffet table set up with every breakfast food imaginable. And there's Jonathan Toews, wearing a button-down plaid shirt and jeans himself, thank god. Brent swallows as their eyes meet and Toews walks forward. 

“Daddy, it's him,” Mara whispers, tugging on the hem of his shirt. 

He takes her hand in his and clears his throat, extending his other one as Jonathan reaches them. "Mr. Toews, it's nice to meet you." 

He takes Brent’s hand, his grip strong and firm, fingers broad. He’s looking between Brent and Mara, head quirked, before he grins, "I think we already met."

“I knew he'd remember!" Mara says, too loud. 

Jonathan bends down so he’s eye level with her and shakes her hand. “What's your name, sweetheart?”

“Mara,” she says, “and you're Jonathan Taze.”

He grins up at Brent, eyes shining with delight. “That's right, I am Jonathan Taze.”

Brent's breath catches in his throat. Fuck, he's so gone. 

He watches Jonathan stand, wiping his hands on his knees. "Johnny," he says to Brent. 

“Huh?” Brent asks dumbly.

“It's Johnny, not Mr. Toews.”

“Oh,” he says, cheeks flaming. “Right.”

Johnny's eyes are still sparkling with amusement. “And you are...?”

“Brent. Uh, Brent Seabrook, I work at Edward Jones.”

Johnny laughs. “Yeah, I figured, since you won the raffle. Unless you're some stranger walking in off the street, in which case I'd be disappointed.”

“Disappointed...?” Brent repeats, trailing off as he takes in the hostess behind them who's been watching the entire exchange in amusement. 

“That I wouldn't be having breakfast with this adorable little girl, obviously,” he says, patting Mara’s head. 

"Or her dad," he adds softly, and Jesus fucking Christ if that isn't flirting then maybe Brent's been out of the game longer than he thought. 

The hostess chooses that moment to clear her throat and Brent's not sure if he's more relieved or upset.

“Your table is all set up over here.”

_____________________________________________

Breakfast is wonderful. Mara has a ball with the omelette station and the unlimited amounts of muffins and waffles and pancakes. 

“I feel like a princess, daddy!” she says with a mouth full of Belgium waffle.

“Princesses don't talk with their mouth full,” Brent says. He hears Johnny giggle softly across from him.

They haven’t had much one-on-one conversation throughout breakfast, Johnny being ridiculously attentive to Mara, indulging her many questions about Kaner, while Johnny answers in equal parts chirping and fond. Brent isn’t normally a jealous person, but he feels a twinge of it, hearing and seeing the way Johnny’s voice and eyes go soft. By the time he starts telling Mara terrible knock knock jokes, Brent can see she’s completely smitten. 

By the time Johnny is patiently listening to Mara attempt her own knock knock joke (which is in actually just a silly story she made up about Olaf from Frozen) and then laughing his ass off like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard, _Brent_ is completely smitten. 

And that just won’t fucking do. Even if this guy happens to, by some chance, be into dudes. Even if that wink actually meant something and wasn’t just this hot-ass _knowing_ he’s a fucking hot-ass and how he can charm the pants off both women and men alike, he’s still the _Captain of the Chicago Blackhawks_. Brent’s also pretty surprised at how loose and laid-back the guy is, unlike what the media tries to make him believe game after game, night after night. 

He’s grateful there haven’t been any awkward, “So where’s Mara’s mother?” questions, but if there was anything he expected from Jonathan Toews (if only from what the media has said) it was tact and good sense. 

When breakfast ends (too fast, in Brent’s estimation) and Mara's done hugging Johnny for the third time, it’s Brent’s turn to say goodbye. 

“It was nice to meet you,” Brent says sincerely. 

“Likewise,” Johnny replies, encasing Brent’s hand in that strong, firm grasp again while smiling brilliantly. 

“I’ll see you at the next game, eh?” Johnny says, to both Brent and Mara, his hand coming down to pat her head. 

Brent flushes a little, because, no, there won’t be any games. He’s still not senior enough in the company to get free tickets whenever there are some and he can’t spend the rest of his bonus on even more hockey. He’s got responsibilities. 

Except when Brent looks down, Mara is beaming. Shit. 

"Yeah, uh, we'll see about that," he tells Johnny with a wary smile. "Single dad salary doesn't allow for many Hawks games in the budget.” 

He wants to bite his tongue immediately thereafter, because he really didn’t plan on just throwing that tidbit out there. 

Johnny’s face registers a millisecond of surprise before he’s smiling again, easily, as if he’s aware of Brent’s tension. 

“Well,” Johnny says, taking out his phone. “How about you name the game, and I hook you up? I mean, it’s good to know the Captain.” And then he’s winking again, first at his daughter and then at Brent, this time so completely cheesy that Brent can’t help but laugh. 

“You don’t have to--” 

“Please, Daddy, please!” Mara cries, tugging on his shirt. Brent sighs, stroking his hand down her hair. He doesn’t _do_ handouts but-- but Jonathan Toews is smiling at him encouragingly and his daughter is giving him the damn puppy dog eyes and Brent can admit when he’s licked. 

“Alright,” Brent sighs. “ _One_ game,” he warns. 

Johnny grins at him and, good lord, high-fives his daughter. Brent’s trying not to let his emotions show on his face, bites the inside of his cheek to keep from it. And then that’s all shot to shit as he basically gapes. Because Jonathan Fucking Toews is now asking for his phone number and giving Brent his in return. 

What alternate universe did he step into anyway?  
____________________________________

 _two tickets for saturday night’s game vs. the wild are yours if you want them_ is the text Brent gets mid-week. 

From Jonathan Toews. 

His phone clatters onto his desk. Sally in the next cubicle looks at him in amusement. 

“Butterfingers today, Brent?” 

Brent gives a fake half smile. “Something like that.” 

He kind of-- tried to forget about it, honestly. He hadn’t heard from Johnny in three days, even though Mara couldn’t stop talking about him and now required a Toews jersey from Santa to go with her Kane one. Brent’s entire bonus _was_ going to go to hockey, after all. 

Brent waits exactly thirty minutes before responding. 

_that’s really too kind of you. are you sure this is okay?_

Johnny’s reply is immediate. 

__it’s more than okay. Seats are up against the glass, I’ll tell Kaner to throw her a puck at warmups_ _

Brent can’t help the smile that crosses his face. 

__thank you. you really didn’t have to_ _

Johnny replies a few minutes later. _Seriously, it’s my pleasure. I had a great time_

Brent’s breath catches in his throat. Which is dumb. It’s probably just about Mara. Everyone has a great time with Mara. Plus, Toews is a polite guy. Brent knows good Canadian genes when he sees them. 

He’s just about to put his phone in his desk drawer and actually focus on work when it vibrates again. _Can take her back after the game, meet the rest of the team. if you want_

Yep. Just about Mara. Brent refuses to feel jealous over his own kid. It would probably qualify him for a shitty dad award. 

_You don’t need to go through that trouble_

Johnny’s reply is immediate again. _It’s honestly no trouble. I’d like to see you again_. 

Brent stares at his phone, mouth a little open. Okay, that’s-- a little direct. 

He blinks when it buzzes in his hand again. 

_Um, both of you._

Maybe Jonathan Toews _is_ actually flirting with him. 

“Shit,” Brent breathes out. 

He manages to type back. _alright. That’ll be nice_ and then resolutely puts his phone away. 

Good thing too. He doesn’t look at it again until he’s punching the clock at 5 and on the way out of the office. It’s just a stupid winky smiley face in return, but Brent’s pretty damn sure if he’d seen it before now he would’ve been grinning dumbly the rest of the day. 

___________________________ 

He doesn’t expect Jonathan Toews to randomly text him over the course of the next few days. Mundane shit about how sometimes it’s tough to keep flights interesting and how he’ll more often than not try to sleep. Or his favorite places to eat when they’re in L.A. and Nashville. Or what his least favorite road cities are. 

In turn, Brent tells him the places he’s traveled, both alone and with Mara. He relays the family trip to Disney World last year and how Mara was embarrassed to wear her princess dress walking around the park, so Brent bought an adult one and wore it with her. He couldn’t believe he told Johnny that, actually. Was kind of mortified when the text he got back was a solid block of _ahaahahahahahaahahahaha_ , but then Johnny had replied again with _Man, you’re a pretty super dad_ and Brent had to go jerk off. 

By the time they get there for warmups Saturday, he’s learned a hell of a lot about Jonathan Toews. The bad part is he still wants to learn a hell of a lot more. 

Johnny doesn’t look at him when he comes out at first, does his standard lap of the ice, game face already firmly in place. Once the team starts dispersing to their own areas, some players stretching, some taking shots, Johnny skates over to where Mara is on Brent’s shoulders, tapping her hands happily on his head. 

“Hi Johnny!” he hears her say. One of her hands has left his hair, so she’s presumably waving. Brent’s face flushes at her using his name so informally, but whatever. They were asked to come. Johnny’s waving back at her and Brent’s getting deja vu of the first time this happened. Except he’s not wearing his Toews jersey. He’s not wearing any jersey, actually, just a hat. He’d felt-- weird, pulling it out of his closet and thinking about wearing it tonight, when he’s sat down and spoken with Johnny. When they’ve been texting consistently. 

Johnny makes a few dumb faces at Mara before smiling at Brent and skating away again. Brent watches as he does his jump and bump thing that Brent’s seen him do in warmups before. It’s-- dorky and adorable all at once. He notices Kaner skate up to Johnny, nodding in Brent’s direction. Brent’s eyes widen a little at that, and even more when Johnny meets his eyes and smiles again, all soft, before tearing his gaze away and knocking Kaner on the head with his glove. True to his word, Kaner does toss Mara a puck over the glass at the end of warmups. She can’t stop smiling, while Brent can’t stop wondering just what Johnny’s told Kaner about them. 

_you guys can come back near the locker room after the game, i left your name with security_ is the text he gets shortly after warmups end and they’re settled in their ice-level seats. 

Brent doesn’t even know what to say at this point. 

_this is all really too much, man. you’re gonna spoil my kid_

_nah, spoiling would be me asking if you guys want to go to dinner after_

Brent blinks at the text. It’s a day game, so it’s not like it will be late. Mara would love it. And Brent-- well, Brent just really, really wants to be reading all the random glances and maybe-flirting correctly. 

So maybe it was time to up the ante. 

_and are you? asking?_

He hopes Johnny reads that exactly the way Brent intends it: languid and flirtatious. 

_i am. and i really want you to say yes_

Brent wants to say yes to a lot of things, at this moment. 

_i’ll see you after the game_ is what he replies with, because really-- time to get back in the saddle and remember that he also has a sex drive and isn’t just Mara Seabrook’s dad, even though he’ll always be that above all else. 

Maybe it was time to add a little balance. 

_______________________________________

___The Hawks win in a shootout. It was Mara’s first time seeing that live and she cheered wildly when both Johnny and Kaner scored._ _ _

___“C’mon, bug, we have somewhere to be,” Brent says, taking her hand in his and walking over toward where the players exit the ice and meeting the security guard there._ _ _

___“Ohhh, where are we going, Daddy?”_ _ _

___“You’ll see.”_ _ _

___He gives the guard his name and is ushered back through the tunnel and along a corridor. They come to a stop in front of a door where other family members and friends, he assumes, are waiting._ _ _

___Brent feels a little uncomfortable and it’s a little while before the door opens, reporters and camera crews ushering out. When Patrick Kane exits, Mara nearly squeals. Brent isn't expecting him to stop, but he does._ _ _

___“Hey. You’re Mara, right?”_ _ _

___Brent watches as Mara blinks up at him with her big, brown eyes. “Yes, that’s me,” she says and Brent realizes she’s _shy_. His heart clenches. _ _ _

___Kaner must realize too, from her timidness and the way she ducks her head and he laughs gently, reaching his hand out to shake it. She’s still holding the puck he tossed her in her other hand, refusing to let it go._ _ _

___“Hear from Johnny that you’re a big fan.”_ _ _

___She shakes his hand, saying, “I am!” with a little more of her normal enthusiasm._ _ _

___Kaner laughs. “You like the puck?”_ _ _

___Mara nods. “Yes, thank you.”_ _ _

___Kaner looks at Brent for the first time. “Brent, right? Nice to meet you, man.”_ _ _

___Brent shakes the hand Mara just had. “You too. Sweet goal at the end there.”_ _ _

___Kaner shrugs, smiling. “Helps that Johnny goes first sometimes, ya know?”_ _ _

___“He’s uh, pretty great,” Brent hears himself say, distantly, and immediately wants to bang his head against a wall._ _ _

___Kaner gives him a look, one eyebrow slightly raised, like he knows damn well Brent isn’t just talking about Johnny’s hockey._ _ _

___When Kaner leans in a little to say, low, “He thinks you are too, man,” Brent nearly swallows his tongue in surprise._ _ _

___Johnny exits the room then, looking tired but eyes brightening when he sees Brent. “Wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says, and then kneels down when Mara yells, “Johnny!”_ _ _

___Yeah, not shy _there_ , that’s for sure. _ _ _

___“Hey sweetheart,” Johnny says, accepting the hug her outstretched arms are asking for. “Did you like the game?”_ _ _

___“It was _great!_ ” _ _ _

___Johnny laughs and stands up, ruffling Kaner’s hair. “This one embarrassing himself in front of you, yet?”_ _ _

___Kaner snorts. “Embarrassing _you_ maybe.” _ _ _

___Brent would laugh at Johnny’s face, looking like he’s really worried Patrick could’ve been doing just that. Except he’s still too hung up on Kaner’s words._ _ _

___“You better not have,” Johnny mutters, voice tight._ _ _

___Kaner laughs. “Relax, Johnny. We were just talking about how great you are.” Kaner winks at Brent, says bye to Mara and walks off._ _ _

___Johnny shakes his head, meeting Brent’s eyes a little sheepishly. “He’s-- well, he’s him,” Johnny laughs, dragging a hand through his still damp hair._ _ _

___“Daddy, pick me up,” Mara says. She still loves being carried around sometimes, even though she insists she’s a “big girl.” Brent lifts her, her arms looping around his neck. Johnny smiles softly at them and Brent swallows hard._ _ _

___“C’mon, room’s all safe now,” Johnny says, nodding behind him. Brent’s eyes widen as they enter the locker room, players milling about, family members having come in. Johnny tells Mara, very seriously, not to step on the logo, before greeting a few of the wives and girlfriends. He introduces Brent and Mara. Brent really can’t believe he’s shaking hands with Marian Hossa and Duncan Keith but yep, he is. Mara’s charmed the entire room by the time she’s done with them, and Brent can’t help but feel proud. His girl is the greatest._ _ _

___“Okay,” Johnny says, clapping his hands together as they step out into the hallway again. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starved. Where’s the little one want to eat? Your choice, sweetheart.”_ _ _

___Which is how Jonathan Toews ends up in a Chuck E. Cheese with them, wearing a suit that probably equals two months of Brent’s salary._ _ _

___“Sorry about this,” Brent says, trying not to laugh at Johnny sitting stiffly in the wooden chair, sticking out like a sore thumb. “You could’ve said no.”_ _ _

___Mara’s happy as a clam, coloring already._ _ _

___“Don’t be silly,” Johnny says. “It was the lady’s choice.”_ _ _

___Mara looks up, beaming. Brent presses a kiss to her head._ _ _

___“Besides,” Johnny says. “It’s my own fault. I don’t normally wear suits after games as of late.”_ _ _

___Brent raises an eyebrow. “No? Why tonight, then?”_ _ _

___Johnny shrugs. “Well. Didn’t want you to think I was some scrub,” he says, crooked smile pulling at his lips._ _ _

___Brent laughs. “Are you, captain?”_ _ _

___Johnny’s smile widens. “Lil bit.”_ _ _

___They stare at each other, smiling, Mara too busy with her coloring to even care about interrupting. When they _are_ interrupted, it’s by the waitress. Good thing, too, because Brent had been starting to have not very family-friendly thoughts about Johnny’s lips._ _ _

___“Gotta say,” Johnny begins, when they’re left alone again, “was a little surprised you didn’t wear your jersey.”_ _ _

___Brent laughs. “You mean _your_ jersey.” _ _ _

___Johnny shrugs, smirking._ _ _

___Brent rolls his eyes. “Had to be at least 10,000 people wearing it tonight, I think that’s enough, don’t you?”_ _ _

___Johnny just shrugs again, his eyelashes fluttering against this cheek. Jesus, it’s like this guy knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. Brent feels a small thrill shoot through him. _ _ _

___Things are even more relaxed this time around. Johnny’s easy to talk to, carrying the conversation and being excellent with Mara. By the time they’re watching Mara in the ballpit, Johnny alternating between yells of encouragement to her and signing autographs and taking photos, Brent doesn’t know if he wants to fuck the guy or propose marriage._ _ _

___Probably a little of both._ _ _

______________________________________________ _ _

___Mara is conked out in the back seat of Johnny’s Chevy when they pull into the now-emptied UC parking lot._ _ _

___“Gee, I wonder which car is yours,” Johnny deadpans, head whipping from side to side._ _ _

___Brent laughs. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.” He covers his mouth immediately, looking behind them. Nope, she’s still asleep._ _ _

___Now it’s Johnny’s turn to laugh. “ _That_ must be tough.” _ _ _

___“You have no idea. There’s a swear jar. I’m a bad parent, man.”_ _ _

___They roll to a stop next to Brent’s car. “You’re obviously not a bad parent,” Johnny says, voice a little soft but a lot determined._ _ _

___Brent meets his eyes as Johnny puts the car in park and it hits him that this is the first time, aside from text messages, that they’ve had a moment to themselves without Mara being alert and watching. It freaks him out a little, like she’s some sort of buffer for these feelings that have been tugging at him since he met Johnny: the desire and need for sex, yes, but more than that, the desire and need to get to know him better, to learn everything there is. Brent hasn’t wanted anything more than a few fleeting, stolen hours with someone in-- quite a while._ _ _

___“Thanks,” Brent says, cutting his eyes away from Johnny’s before he can read everything Brent’s putting out there._ _ _

___“Look, uh,” Johnny starts, and Brent sees him scratch at the side of his neck. “This is probably really dumb of me to do, and maybe I’m reading all this wrong, but--” he tries to catch Brent’s gaze and Brent allows it, his pulse jumping in his throat. “Would you want to go out next weekend? Just uh, the two of us.”_ _ _

___Brent chews on the inside of his cheek. He could get a sitter, it wouldn’t be a problem. The question is, should he? This isn’t some guy he meets at the bowling alley, this is Jonathan Toews, as high-profile as they come. And Brent’s damned sure he’s not out. Hell, Brent isn’t even out to his kid yet, hasn’t had anyone stick around to have a reason to be._ _ _

___“Just dinner, man,” Johnny says, palms up, laughing a little ruefully. “I can see the wheels turning from here.”_ _ _

___Brent’s cheeks go hot and he licks over his teeth. “Uh. Yeah. Okay.”_ _ _

___Johnny laughs again. “Wow. Don’t sound so excited,” he teases._ _ _

___Brent sighs, scratching a hand behind his ear, eyes downcast._ _ _

___“Hey,” Johnny says softly, placing a tentative hand on Brent’s shoulder. “Uh, c’mon, I was just kidding.”_ _ _

___“No, I know,” Brent says, meeting his eyes again. Johnny’s are warm, sincere. “Part of being a parent, I guess. I’m always-- thinking two or three steps ahead.”_ _ _

___Johnny nods, squeezing Brent’s shoulder. “Let’s just-- take this slow, eh?”_ _ _

___“Okay.” Slow sounds good. Johnny helps him gather Mara up and transfer her to his car. She barely even startles._ _ _

___“I’ll text you,” Johnny says, smiling at Brent through the driver’s-side window._ _ _

___“Cool, man,” Brent says._ _ _

___He wants to pull Johnny down and kiss him, right here and now, but he supposes that wouldn’t be wise in public. And maybe wouldn’t fall under the realm of ‘slow’ either._ _ _

___Still, Brent could give a little bit back._ _ _

___“Johnny?” he calls, watching as Johnny stops and turns his head, eyebrow raised. “You’re not reading this wrong at all.”_ _ _

___Johnny’s smile is worth taking the risk._ _ _

____________________________________ _ _

___ Epilogue _ _ _

___In the end, they don’t take it slow. They take it the exact opposite of slow. A fancy, yet secluded dinner in a private dining room of one of Chicago’s finest dining establishments lends to hearty laughter and long stories of childhood christmases and them both growing up in Manitoba, something they hadn’t talked about till now._ _ _

___It shifts into slow, heated glances over dessert. It devolves into stumbling through the door of Johnny’s condo, fused at the mouth, Brent tasting the $300 bottle of wine on Johnny’s breath, licking past the faint remains of chocolate mousse from dessert to get to Johnny’s own flavor, spicy and warm and perfect._ _ _

___It escalates into Johnny pulling Brent’s shirt over his head, and Brent shoving his hands down the back of Johnny’s dress pants, squeezing the exquisite, firm flesh of his ass, crowding Johnny back against the bedroom wall, Johnny’s mouth hot on his neck while he gasps out promises of how he’s going to ruin him, gonna lay him out and make Brent crazy for it._ _ _

___Brent doesn’t doubt it._ _ _

___When Johnny’s got Brent’s cock deep in his throat and his fingers circling Brent’s ass, Brent figures they’re way past slow. When he’s being turned onto his belly, after having come down Johnny’s throat, and rimmed within an inch of his life, gasping Johnny’s name into his 800 thread count sheets, Brent figures slow has left the building._ _ _

___When Johnny comes, thrusting his cock along Brent’s ass and between his thighs, his mouth hot on Brent’s spine, making Brent shiver and writhe, fitting his hands over Brent’s as his cock spurts thick and hot against his skin, Brent’s never been happier to experience Jonathan Toews’ idea of “slow”._ _ _

___He tells him as much when they’re laying in bed after, Brent spooned behind him, loving the way he’s a little bigger than Johnny, at least an inch taller and a few inches broader._ _ _

___“I really did mean it,” Johnny yawns, reaching back to place a hand on Brent’s hip, palming it. “S’your fault. Kept eyefucking me at dinner.”_ _ _

___Brent snorts with laughter. “Do I sound like I’m complaining?”_ _ _

___Johnny’s hand stills and he feels him go a little stiff. “No. But, uh. Seriously,” he says, arching his neck back to meet Brent’s eyes. “We can do this however you want. I get with Mara it’s not easy.”_ _ _

___Brent wants to say with _Johnny_ it probably won’t be easy, either, but Johnny doesn’t seem too worried about that right now. _ _ _

___“A lot of people don’t want the baggage,” Brent admits, scowling to himself at the thought of people considering her that._ _ _

___Johnny turns in his arms and their noses brush together as he re-settles, Brent’s arms looping around his waist._ _ _

___“Yeah, well,” Johnny says, brushing a soft kiss against Brent’s mouth. “Promise I’m not one of them.”_ _ _

___Brent never in a million years thought he was._ _ _

___“Okay,” Brent says, with conviction._ _ _

___Johnny’s eyes light up. “Okay?”_ _ _

___“Let’s do it,” Brent says, little his lips curve into a smile just as Johnny’s do._ _ _

___Johnny kisses along his jaw, down his neck, his hands gliding over Brent’s ass. Brent feels his cock stir and moans softly._ _ _

___“Stay the night,” Johnny whispers, tongue lapping at the hollow of his throat. “If you can.”_ _ _

___“Yeah,” Brent replies, arching his hips upward to meet Johnny’s._ _ _

___Yeah, he repeats silently, and pulls Johnny closer, embracing the unknown, ready to take the risk._ _ _

___[end]_ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> If you want more with this pairing, check out my [sorta primer](http://monalisasnmadhatters.tumblr.com/post/115630962889/jonathan-toews-and-brent-seabrook-the-captains) and browse my [tumblr tag](http://monalisasnmadhatters.tumblr.com/tagged/tazer%2Fseabs).


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